Weave Me The Sunshine

Weave, weave, weave me the sunshine, out of the pouring rain….

That song is in my head this morning. I like it because it reminds me of summer camp, and sitting around the campfire, singing and laughing. There were guitars and banjos and songs to be sung. It was an enchanting time in my life.

Back in those days, at this very time of year, I would be newly home from camp. After spending a week in the glorious Sierra Nevada mountains with old friends and new friends, at church camp, I would be home, still humming the songs we sang.

Back then, the new school year would be looming large on my horizon. I always looked forward to going back to school with mixed emotions. I knew I would be glad to see my friends again, and to share the activities, the football games and the dances and the daily dramas that only teenage girls can create…the homework and tests? Not so much.

But for now, the songs linger in my head…weaving my own form of sunshine. It is, after all, not about the weather; it is about personal attitude and hopes and dreams. I have always wished for sunshine in my life. I know that it is the rain that nourishes the earth, and makes it green and lush, but it is the sunshine that nourishes me.

I remember sitting around that campfire, singing those songs, and we would sway a little, from side to side, with the music or the feelings the music evoked. It was church camp, and our days in the mountains included Bible studies and worship services.

I remember our evening “service” that was held up the hill, at the chapel. There was a simple wooden covering over an altar, and a roughhewn cross hanging from it. We sat on logs placed in rows and listened to a priest offer what he hoped would be a message with meaning…..Meaning for a bunch of gangling, pimple-faced teenagers.

I have to admit, most of the messages were lost on me. I was in awe of the stillness of the place, the majesty of the towering fir trees that had been there for hundreds of years, and the smell…that unforgettable smell of the pureness of the mountains.

The event I remember most was after “chapel” as we called it. We would carry candles, the kind with the paper ring around them to keep the melting wax from burning our hands, and we would descend as a group, down the gentle slope to the campfire. Imagine 200 teenagers, carrying candles through the fir-lined twilight, and singing “We are climbing Jacob’s Ladder….”

Somewhere in there, some magic happened. Two hundred teenagers, some good singers and some not, coming together in songs of worship and praise, and then singing the folk songs of our day…..a choir of angels wearing blue jeans and sweatshirts….and singing their hearts out.

So, when I think about Weave, weave, weave me the sunshine…., I am thinking about the times and places I have been, and the effort that it requires to be happy. It isn’t a song about “POOF” here is some sunshine…..it is about the actual work—the weaving, if you will—of that sense of sunshine and well-being.

And sunny memories of that summer camp experience…….so very long ago.